The Boy Who Saved Them
by Magicstra
Summary: Survivor's guilt. That's also what they told him. They said it wasn't his fault, that Otonashi would have died with that stomach wound anyway, that he needed to stop blaming himself. But he could never believe them.


**This is my first Angel Beats story. It focuses on Igarashi, who was the boy Otonashi befriended in the train accident, and what his life was like after the rescue.**

It wasn't fair.

There was a lot unfair about it. It wasn't fair that Otonashi had given up his water, so that bastard could live. It wasn't fair that he had brought hope to them in that dark, horrible time, only to die as the rescuers arrived.

Igarashi had spent the past year in therapy, hospitals, and in concerned relatives houses. He had been diagnosed with PTSD, major depressive disorder, and something with the word "anxiety" in it.

Survivor's guilt. That's also what they told him. They said it wasn't his fault, that Otonashi would have died with that stomach wound anyway, that he needed to stop blaming himself. But he could never believe them. If only he had given Otonashi a little more water, or given him some of his food. Then maybe he wouldn't have died

It had taken him a while to get back to his life. Every time he stepped into his college, he felt like a traitor. Taking what Otonashi could never have for himself. Every time he went jogging, he hated himself a little more, for being able to hear a steady pulse when Otonashi had none. Every time he went to a doctor's office, he tried to imagine Otonashi among them, wearing a coat and stethoscope. But he never could. He could only conjure up the image of Otonashi starving, cheeks hollow and dirt smeared across his face.

His story had been posted on the internet, where it had gained some attention. But people were always more interested in his death, and what a tragedy it was. Nobody cared enough to find out about his life. Nobody ever cared enough.

He had gone to visit his grave. That's what he always did when the world became too much. And that's where he was now. The grass tickled his ankles as he stared at the gray slab of stone. That's all Otonashi had left on this plane. A few newspaper articles and a stone.

Someone had decided to plant flowers over the grave. They were a vibrant purple, and looked out of place among the rows of gray. The wind blew hard, snapping the youngest one off of it's stem. Igarashi picked up the flower and out it in front of the headstone. It was all he could do.

"You're Igarashi, right?" A voice startled him out of his stupor, and he turned to see a girl standing behind him. Her black hair blew around her face and her eyes gazed unblinkingly at him.

"Yeah", he muttered, unsure of what to say. The girl frowned, taking in in his appearance. He knew he had dark bags under his eyes, from sleepless nights. Consumed by the guilt and drinking to forget, that's all he ever had. Empty days and sleepless nights.

She stepped forward and kneeled down, lovingly straightening the flowers and pulling out some weeds. Igarashi realized she must have been the one to plant them. Could she be a relative? A girlfriend?

"I hate that this is the best I can do for him." she said, pulling out a dandelion that had grown.

It hit him suddenly, and he was surprised he hadn't seen it before. She was one of the girls from the train accident. Her hair was longer now and she looked older, no longer the frightened high school student from the wreck. She was the girl who had the flask of tea and the bentou.

"I know." His voice caught in his throat, and it came out as more of a rasp. "It's so unfair."

The girl bit her lip and nodded. "I think that wherever he is, he's happy. His heart saved another life, so his death had meaning. All we can do is live on for him. That's what he would want."

Igarashi was silent. He had never thought of it that way. He had just cursed the unfairness of it all, giving in to drink and depression. Someone had mentioned his heart had been donated, but he hadn't paid much attention.

The girl stood up, dusting dirt off of her hands. "I'm Hayami. Hayami Miharu."

Igarashi nodded. "You already know my name. And Hayami-san, you're right. I need to start living for him."

She smiled at him. "Good to hear."

Igarashi, for the first time since the accident, returned the smile.

**Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, but unhelpful insults are not. Thanks for reading!**

**Magicstra**


End file.
